  Doris, knowing that she could trust Bob, made him promise eternal secrecy and then she told him the whole story, withholding only the name of the highwayman. The lad was indeed surprised at this sudden turn of affairs and he said at once: “You don’t need to tell me who it is, Doris. I know it was Tom Duffy. He was expelled from High last week and he said he was going to skip the town.” Doris wondered if she ought to deny this, but, desiring to shield Danny, she said nothing at the time. Bringing forth the bag of gold, she gave it to the boy. He concealed it in the deep pocket of his heavy overcoat; then he said: “Now, Doris, you just leave it to me. I’ll find some way to return this to the old man tonight so that he may be relieved of his worrying. I’ll wait for a hunch.” Then, as the work of tidying the kitchen was finished, Bob exclaimed: “Now bundle up, Doris, I’ll draw you on the sled while I skate. We can’t let you miss all of the fun.” They were greeted with jolly shouts when they appeared, and Dick Jensen slid up to them, stopping only to do a double figure eight, in which accomplishment he excelled. Then, taking the rope of the sled from Bob’s warmly gloved hand, he said: “I’ll be Doris’ pony. I’m sure she would rather have me, and, if I’m not mistaken, you’ll find Rose waiting for you beyond the point.” Bob’s face lighted. It was understood among these young people that some day, when they were older, Rose and Bob would be engaged, and since it was the only real romance in their midst, they all took a delighted interest in it. For an hour the gleaming ice was the picture of a merry mid-winter frolic, but, as soon as the sun began rapidly to descend to the horizon, Bob took Rose’s horn and blew thereon a long, clear blast, while the maiden at his side, with cheeks as glowing as her ruddy name flower, beckoned the skaters shoreward. “Time to be going!” Bob called as they flocked in. “The sky is so cloudy, the moon won’t be able to light us home, so we’ll try to make it before dark.” Half an hour later the cabin had been securely locked, the sleigh filled with merrymakers, and the horses eager to be away after their long rest in the shelter of a shed. It was nearly dark when the inn was reached. Mr. Wiggin appeared in the door to exclaim, “Well, I’m mighty glad to see you young folks headed for town. My wife’s been worrying the whole afternoon, knowing that highwayman was still at large. The sheriff and his men found some tracks just back of the inn leading toward the pine wood.” Merry put in excitedly: “Oh, Mr. Wiggin, if that robber was riding a horse, we know where he turned toward the old Dorchester road.” But the innkeeper shook his head. “No, he was afoot, old man Bartlett said. Hal Spinney, from the milk farm, went by a spell earlier on horseback.” “How is Mr. Bartlett now?” Gertrude asked solicitously. “Well, he’s pretty much all in,” Mr. Wiggin replied sympathetically. Then, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he said in a low voice, as though not wishing to be heard: “My wife wouldn’t hear to his going back to his shack up in the woods, so she’s got him in there by the fire. He’s pretty hard hit, as you can guess, that five hundred dollars being his lifetime savings.” Bob was thinking hard. Now was the time to give the money back to Old Man Bartlett, but he had promised Doris that he would not tell how she had procured it. He thought it queer that the girl should care to protect that ne’er-do-well of a Tom Duffy; nevertheless he had given his word and would keep it. Jack was driving and was about to start the horses when Bob called: “Wait a minute, Jack, will you? I’d like to take a look at those tracks. Mr. Wiggin, I’m a shark at recognizing shoeprints. I wish you’d show them to me.” The girls, who were not in the secret, smiled at each other knowingly. This carried out their theory that the members of the “C. D. C.” were trying to solve the mystery of the highwayman. “Sure thing. I’ll show them to you,” the garrulous innkeeper replied. “Wait till I get a lantern. Dark’s settling down fast.” A couple of the other boys climbed out of the sleigh, idly curious, and accompanied Bob and Mr. Wiggin, who had reappeared with a lighted lantern. Doris clenched her hands together nervously under the buffalo rope. That Bob had his “hunch” she was sure, but what he was about to do, she could not guess. Five minutes passed, and ten; then the boys returned greatly excited. They were all talking at once. “What happened?” Merry called out. “Happened?” Dick Jensen exclaimed. “The money’s been found. Mr. Wiggin stumbled right over that bag of gold. The robber must have been frightened and dropped it in the snow close to his tracks. Every cent of it was there.” “O, thank goodness!” Gertrude exclaimed. “Now the old man can stop worrying.” Mr. Wiggin held the lantern up, his round face glowing. “It sure was a lucky thing that Bob, here, wanted to look at those tracks,” he said. “No telling but what that robber might have come back in the night, knowing where he had dropped it.” “Do hurry in, Mr. Wiggin, and give it to old Mr. Bartlett,” Doris begged, and if there was an unusual tenseness in her voice, none of the others noticed it. Bob glanced meaningly in her direction as he sat beside his Rose, and Doris, who had been silent before that, suddenly became the life of the party. “Oh, boys, please change your minds about taking us right home,” she pleaded. “We girls want to turn up the wood road just a little distance.” “Why, Doris Drexel,” Betty Byrd cried in evident alarm, “what a wild suggestion! Why in the world should we want to go up the very road where the robbery took place!” “That’s what I’d like to know!” Bertha began, then she remembered that Doris’ suggestion was merely the carrying out of their plan to try to discover if the boys of the “C. D. C.” held their secret meetings in the old Welsley “haunted” house. If the boys were willing to take the girls through the old ruin, it would mean that it was not their meeting place. “Oh, yes—do let’s go!” Bertha then seconded. “All right,” Jack sang out willingly. “I’ll have to back up a little. We’ve passed the wood road.” “O, girls,” Merry gave Doris and Bertha a wink of understanding, “let’s go there some other time. I think we’ve given our guests of honor enough thrills for tonight.” To which Geraldine heartily agreed, and so the horses were turned out upon the highway. When the girls had been left at their homes, the boys laughed and shouted as though at a good joke. The girls would indeed have been mystified if they had heard them. |
|
